[Comprehensive] Mrs. Holmes Daily

Sherlock didn't raise his glass.

He just leaned back on the sofa and stared at his fingertips.

The body of his little girlfriend was lying in the room not far from him, but he didn't take a look.

"In the process of searching for clues, I noticed that she left a bottle of mineral water and a bottle of mead on the balcony before leaving you to go to the appointment alone. Is there any meaning to this?"

"There is no moral, you don't have to care."

"is it?"

Mycroft stared at him deeply:

"Well, then I'll take it as meaningless... Besides, I've had the news of your impending marriage published in The Times."

Mycroft put down his coffee:

"The new master of the Egyptian church is at the right time to stand up, and he will never bear the fact that the pure 'sacrifice' they have been waiting for for ten years is going to marry."

"So they will definitely wait for the wind and move. At that time, you can close the net and catch them all."

Sherlock said casually:

"When is the wedding time?"

"A week later... so I hope her funeral will also be held in a week later, otherwise it will be easy to show her feet."

A week later.

Sherlock raised his eyes and glanced at her room lightly.

The door was open, and she was lying on the bed, as if asleep.

Did she know that their wedding was a week away?

If so, what kind of expression would it be?

……

Well, he could already imagine that she would not look forward to it very much, and the possibility of running away was more likely.

……

He took another sip of coffee - standard sugar, the amount of standard coffee beans, smooth taste, rich aroma, much more refined than her brew.

At least no one except her would try adding vinegar and salt and pepper to coffee.

...oh, that was hell.

"What are you thinking?"

"what?"

Sherlock was interrupted by Mycroft's sudden question, and he calmly raised his head and finished drinking the black liquid:

"It's nothing."

"Sherlock, I understand your eagerness to crush the remnants of Atum, but to be honest, I don't want to use your marriage to achieve my goals."

Mycroft raised his hand, and Anthea came over and filled Sherlock's glass again:

"The news hasn't been published yet, and you still have a chance to go back on your word... There are various ways to eliminate the remnants of the party. I don't understand why you must use the method of marriage."

……

why?

……

Sherlock lowered his eyes:

"Because it's the quickest way to get rid of the remnants."

"Really? I almost thought you really wanted to marry a dead woman, and then drive into the waves of the South Pacific with her after the wedding..."

Mycroft stared at him, and said softly:

"Tell me, you won't do that."

Sherlock looked back at his brother.

After a long time, he opened his mouth and said:

"of course not."

"That's good."

Mycroft stood up:

"I should go... Maybe you should consider putting her in the freezer, because she's going to be stained in a while."

"..."

The door was closed again.

With a slight click of the deadbolt, Baker Street fell into silence again.

The coffee cups were left on the coffee table, and if Sherlock didn't collect them, they would sit there forever until microbes grew.

Immediately afterwards, the apartment would also begin to sink in, gradually returning to the state of the inorganic matter before she came.

Her traces will be covered up, leaving nothing behind.

Sherlock sat quietly on the sofa for a while, and suddenly remembered that when the cafe owner died, she was also sitting in this position, staring at her friend who would never come back.

Her pain, he made it worse.

So now, feng shui turns.

……

He stood up from the sofa unbearably, picked up the two coffee cups, and planned to wash them off by the sink—at least to make her traces disappear slowly.

But when he was standing by the bar, he stopped again.

The bar is her private domain.

She woke up from sleep countless times, only wearing a large white shirt, her long hair was coiled up casually, and she went to the bar to make breakfast sleepily.

……

Sherlock stood by the sink for a long time.

He suddenly threw the coffee cups into the sink with a clatter, and strode out of the suffocating cemetery without looking at the broken cups again.

……

You are a liar, Miss Ludwig, and you have fooled the best detective in the world.

Throw it away after use, tear down the bridge across the river... There are many lies.

……

Mineral water and mead are her tricks.

She probably also knew how bad it was for her to leave him to go to danger, so she left herself a backhand.

If she comes back alive, it can be said that she has given him a hint, but he didn't see it himself, so he can shirk all responsibility.

This is a simple and crude password, she learns it now and sells it.

If it weren't for the fact that her sleeves had slipped down to her elbows under the moonlight, revealing a section of her delicate and lonely arm... There was no reason for him to ignore such an obvious signal, unless his brain went blank for a second for some reason.

water r.

Mead, mean.

Together it is...an.

......

wait for me.

The fog in London persists all year round, and even the sun seems to be covered with a thin layer of fog, enveloping people in it like a light veil.

Lightly, it is about to disappear.

Sherlock stared at her pale lips, like rose petals faded and colorless.

His cold fingers finally caressed her pale face.

He slowly lay down next to her, one hand over her waist, and took hold of her thin wrist.

And the other hand slowly ran through her long black hair, letting her rest on his arm.

"You said let me wait for you in the square...you said you would be back in a while."

He just hugged her cold body tightly into his arms, buried his head next to her neck where she could no longer feel the pulse, rubbed her hair, and said calmly:

"You are a liar."

He hugged her for a long time, and her side face was in a blurred halo, as if she was about to feather.

Sherlock lay motionless beside her, his long eyelashes drooping, and slowly closed his eyes.

The other side of London.

"Mr. Holmes is asleep, boss."

"Fell asleep?"

"Asleep, boss."

Mycroft had quickly flipped through the large number of documents on the table and pushed them aside:

"I only drank a sip of coffee and already felt sleepy. He should also feel sleepy after drinking two full cups."

Miss Anthea was sitting in a corner of Mycroft's studio, and her duty was to watch the Baker Street video on her mobile phone and pass the news to the boss in time.

"Your sacrifice for him, he will see."

Anthea said respectfully, but her heart was slandering—yes, the boss took a sip of sleeping pills to trick his younger brother, and actually took a sip himself. This is really a great sentiment, but tomorrow's work will be done by them .

Because the boss is going to sleep.

But when she was watching the video calmly, Mycroft who was working suddenly said:

"Don't slander, Anderson."

"..."

... My name is Anthea and Anderson is a coroner at Scotland Yard.

But she just paused and raised her phone:

"Your mother just sent a text message asking me to question you, why did you give her second son sleeping pills?"

"Tell her it was all out of concern for the safety of her second son."

Mycroft said without looking up:

"Everything he promised to her will be done, so since he promised forever..."

He paused the pen in his hand slightly, and then fluently signed his name on the order document to destroy the church:

"That must be practical, forever."

Time passed minute by minute.

The sun rises slowly from the east and sets slowly from the west.

Tick, tick.

The wall clock on Baker Street has already cast the orange shadow of the setting sun, and it is still spinning non-stop.

Tick, tick.

London has already sunk into the night, and in a few hours, the sun will rise from the sea level on the east side of the Pacific Ocean. The entire European continent, France, England, Austria... Another dawn is coming.

Time takes the life of the living.

... Then, what about the dead?

Dappled sunlight fell on Ludwig's satin bed sheet with large dark flowers printed on it.

There was chirping and chirping of birds outside the window, and pigeons rubbed their claws on their balcony for a while, then flapped their wings and flew away.

Sherlock woke up from a deep dream... In the dream, she was standing under the gray sycamore and blue honeysuckle, wearing a white floral coat.

She stopped in the almost desolate silence, turned her head and smiled at him.

Then, like a butterfly spreading its wings, she slowly opened her arms and walked towards the empty darkness... Just like that, she sank into the eternal night and disappeared.

... gone?

In the dream, she was a complete liar, not even leaving her body.

Sherlock tightened his arms, trying to hold the corpse in his arms tighter... After all, all he had now was this little thing, even though it was her discarded, unwanted body.

But...but...

What about her?

Sherlock opened his eyes suddenly.

The bed in front of him was already empty.

A great panic hit him... Where is she?where did she goHe couldn't lose her, and lose the last thing she left behind.

It was his only treasure.

Even if you don't cry, don't make trouble, and don't laugh

He slowly stretched out his hand, with an expression that could almost be called panic, and touched the sheet in front of him.

Only air.

Suddenly, the sound of a bird flapping its wings woke him up. The pigeons regarded the windows of the residents as their own paradise, and they were never afraid even if there were people standing by the windows.

... the window, standing people.

Sherlock raised his head slowly.

Then he saw that the little girlfriend he thought he had lost forever was standing by the window, slowly raising his arms towards the sun like a butterfly spreading its wings.

This is an ancient Egyptian ritual.

Thousands of years ago, people who lived on the banks of the Nile made the same gesture.

Facing the sun, facing Amon-Ra.

They use this gesture to express the most primitive and pious gratitude and respect... Thank God for bringing us fertile soil, making this land full of life with people, birds, and fish.

Thank God for food and wine, glory...and life.

In that era, gods and humans coexisted peacefully, just like fathers and sons.

……

Ludwig stood in the sun.

And the sunlight, as light as a veil, slowly fell from a height of thousands of feet, like a real veil, enveloping her body and being caught by her outstretched arms.

She narrowed her eyes slightly, allowing her long black hair to spread all over her back, and the white satin and pink flowers glistened in the sunlight.

And on the index finger of her right hand, she was wearing a silver ring with a knot inlaid with black stones, like a cartoon villain with a fingerless arm hanging down.

——It was a birthday present from the cafe owner Erich.

In ancient Egyptian religion, the only goddess who can stand side by side with the sun god Amun is Isis.

Isis—the goddess of female fertility, which is what keeps the world going—creates life.

Except for Catholicism, which was modified by Constantine, no matter in the teachings of any religion, fecundity is sacred and noble, which is equivalent to vitality.

……

The birthday present An He gave her was not a cartoon villain.

That is the Knot of Isis.

Also called in Egypt

——The talisman of life.